


Time for the rest

by HapaxLegomenon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Timeline, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Dragons, Post-Recall, Probably? Who knows!, Reunions, they're all little shits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9924245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HapaxLegomenon/pseuds/HapaxLegomenon
Summary: Months after Genji's visit to Hanamura and the Overwatch recall, Hanzo appears in Gibraltar.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is, in part, a gift for [Eth](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ethereally), who is responsible for my descent into Overwatch and is also a giant meme.

Since his cybernization, Genji has found that he doesn’t need to sleep.  Not in the way he used to, anyway, when he was fully human, but his brain, his mind, those still require rest.  He lets his mind wander, drifting through half-formed dreams, still aware but detached.  It feels like being almost-asleep, he remembers.  Not quite awake, not quite asleep either.

Either way, it is convenient, if a little dehumanizing.  When he has too much energy burning through his artificial muscles, or when they were out on assignment, back in the old Blackwatch days, it’s easy enough for Genji to stay awake all night, and rest and recuperate with a few hours of quiet meditation later in the day.  A handy skill, for a black ops agent.  

But despite that, he’s still human.  And there’s something so intimately human about sleeping with a lover.

McCree doesn’t snore, despite everything about his broad chest and crooked nose suggesting that he should.  Probably trained out of him early on, Genji thinks.  He does snuggle, however, which Genji had been delighted to discover and exploit.  

Which finds them here, curled together at the Gibraltar Watchpoint, four months after the recall, slotted together like puzzle pieces as if the lost years and continents between them are nothing.  Genji is drifting, tucked up against McCree’s chest and under his chin, armour lights dimmed and his sensors informing him that his body is within the comfortable range of warmth.  McCree has one arm tucked under his own pillow and the other wrapped around Genji’s chest, curved around to cup his metal cheek.  With anybody else, Genji would find the hold constraining, repressive, but with McCree… it’s comforting.  The window is open, a luxury of security, and the wind and waves wash quietly under the stars.  Genji can feel the slow, easy in-and-out movement of McCree’s breathing, and old missions echo in his helmet, gasps and curses and gunshots.  The night is quiet.

The wind doesn’t change, and neither do the waves.  There’s no sound at all, barely more than an impression, when something shifts.  In an instant, McCree’s hand pulls from under the pillow, Peacekeeper aimed unerringly steady at the figure in the window.  They all freeze, a tableau in the starlight. 

“Peace, Jesse,” Genji breaks the silence.  “It is only my brother.”

McCree doesn’t move an inch, eyes keen and aim unwavering, but he sucks his cheek with a loud _smack_ and says, “Yeah?  Given his history of fratricide and all, that ain’t a real comfort, darlin’.”  Peacekeeper glows acid-green when Genji’s visor lights up.  

Genji pushes down on McCree’s wrist -- he could break McCree’s hold on his gun in an instant, and they both know it.  This is a request.  McCree begrudgingly complies, unwrapping his arm from Genji after a last, brief squeeze, and propping himself up on his elbows.  Genji sits up primly, legs crossed and hands folded in his lap.  His air filters hum as he takes a breath in, and out, and he tilts his head to the side.

“Come in, brother,” he offers, voice intentionally smooth and even.  

Hanzo moves for the first time, rising out of his crouch and dropping soundlessly into the room.  He squints at Genji, uncertain -- Genji knows he is difficult to read, with his body the way it is now, especially when he controls his body language as he has learned to do.  He knows that he gives nothing away through his posture.

McCree, with all the famed subtlety of a buffalo, yawns loudly and sits up, scratching the side of his head with the butt of his weapon.  The blankets fall away, and from his enhanced peripheral vision, Genji sees McCree flex the muscles in his bare arms and chest, in an obvious attempt at intimidation.

In the privacy afforded by his visor, Genji rolls his eyes.

“My apologies, Genji,” Hanzo says stiffly, eyeing McCree.  He tightens the grip on his bow, making his muscles tense and the dragon tattoo on his upper arm ripple in the green light.  Genji fights the urge to smack his forehead.  “I was unaware that you were… engaged, this evening.”

Well.  Genji pops off the bed with an inhumanly quick movement that, to his surprise, doesn’t elicit so much as a flinch from his brother.  He stretches deliberately, the movement accompanied by a grinding of gears and click of mechanized muscle, all the while watching for Hanzo’s reactions out of the corner of his visor.  “It has been several months since I invited you to join us here, my dear brother.  You will forgive me for being caught with my pants down.”

From the bed, McCree snorts and says, “He’d’a been hard pressed to catch ya with any pants on at all, sunshine.”

“It is just an expression, Jesse,” Genji answers smoothly.  “Perhaps you would have preferred I specify that you are also currently without pants?”

McCree squawks, and Hanzo rolls his eyes heavenward in a painfully familiar expression of exasperation.  Genji grins under his faceplate, wide enough that his lips crack, when Hanzo mutters something under his breath about going back to Japan.

“So!” Genji says, loud and bright in the dark room, and he claps his hands on Hanzo’s shoulders.  Hanzo flinches, which Genji tries not to take personally (though he must admit to feeling somewhat gratified by McCree’s indignant rustle).  Of course Hanzo must be uncomfortable, here, faced with his dead brother and his dead brother’s naked lover.  Still.  The petty part of Genji -- smaller now than it was when he was first a part of Overwatch, but still present nonetheless -- finds that Hanzo’s awkward discomfort only heightens his glee of the moment.  “I would ask you what took you so long to get here, brother, but I suppose it does not really matter.  Here you are.  To accept my offer, I assume?”

Hanzo glances once at McCree, still on the bed, before he looks into Genji’s eyes and nods. 

Or, rather, he makes a game attempt to look into Genji’s eyes, but his focus is just a little bit too close to the center.  McCree snorts, and Genji smiles privately.  There will be time to work on this.  They will have time.

“Honour resides in one’s actions,” Hanzo says, and Genji lifts his chin in acknowledgement of his own words.  “Perhaps this way, I can begin to repay the honour I have lost our family.”  His voice cracks, barely-there, but Genji hears it.  “Perhaps I can repay… I can begin to deserve… to accept your forgiveness.”  His eyes are dark and clouded -- the Shimadas have always had the same eyes.  Genji spent many years seeing those eyes reflected on the inside of his visor.

Genji squeezes Hanzo’s arm.  “My forgiveness is freely given to you, whether you stay or go, brother.  Know that.  The choice is yours.  And know that it is our family --” he almost spits the word, some transgressions yet to be forgiven “-- who dishonoured us both.  We owe them nothing.”

Hanzo sets his jaw, neither refuting nor agreeing.

“Though I still say killin’ your brother’s a scummy thing to do,” McCree pipes up, then adds, “What?  Just sayin’!” when Genji gives him the most withering look he can manage with his faceplate still in place.

“Your point is clear,” Hanzo murmurs.

McCree hops off the bed, sticking an unlit cigarillo between his teeth before he pulls on a pair of sweatpants in a clear showing of his priorities in life.  He presses one hand into the small of Genji’s back, hard enough for his sensors to register, and claps Hanzo on the shoulder with the other, eyes glinting steel.  “Glad t’ hear it.  ‘Cause you hurt him again and I’ll drop ya.”  He clicks his tongue and makes a pistol with his fingers.

“Jesse,” Genji says, exasperated.

“Darlin’,” McCree mimics, with a grin and a possessive kiss to the side of Genji’s helmet.

Hanzo narrows his eyes at the exchange.  “Jesse McCree, yes?  I know who you are, vigilante.  The same goes for you.  I allowed my brother to be lost to me once.  I will not make that mistake again.”

McCree guffaws, and Genji’s metal jaw drops open.

“Hanzo!”  

“I think I like him,” McCree declares, animosity apparently broken, and even Hanzo’s lips twitch into a grin at that.

“I do not believe this,” Genji mutters, crossing his arms.  “I am neither a child nor an invalid, and, may I remind you, perfectly capable of kicking both of your asses.  Concurrently.”

“Sure, babe.”

“I very much doubt that, Genji.”

“I regret everything.”

“Love ya too, sweetpea,” McCree teases, tapping insistently on Genji’s faceplate until Genji grudgingly unlatches his muscles and leans against his cheek in their helmeted approximation of a kiss.

“Ah,” Hanzo says, with a familiar, infuriatingly knowing smirk on his face.  “I see, the cowboy truly does wear the pants in this relationship.”

“ _Hanzo_.”

 

 

 

In the morning, Hanzo returns through Genji and McCree’s window (after McCree’s eventual declaration that, “Nice meetin’ ya and all, but it’s the middle of the night.  Scram.”), and Genji takes him downstairs to introduce to Winston, and from there, the rest of the new Overwatch.

Winston is, as ever, equal parts distracted and welcoming, shaking Hanzo’s entire arm in one of his giant fists with a hearty, “Oh yes, yes, I was wondering if you might show up here, I hope you had a pleasant journey, Shimada-san, I’m rather busy this morning but surely Jes -- erm, that is, Agents McCree and Shimada can show you around the Watchpoint, and then we can give you a proper briefing.”  He swings around his lab, muttering about misplaced items and where did he put the bioscanner, and oh yes there it is.  Finally, he drops out of his whirlwind of activity, looking at them properly for the first time, both his glasses and grin crooked and his arms spread, and declares grandly, “Welcome to Over -- Genji, are you wearing _pants_?”

**Author's Note:**

> Talk fandom to me on Twitter at [@paxlegomenon](https://twitter.com/@paxlegomenon).


End file.
